World of Fairy Tales
by jinxed-lulu
Summary: Eleora Potter thought the Wizarding World reminiscent of Muggle fairy tales at age eleven. But over the years, she can't deny that even in innocence, naivety too can have its faults. AU; TMR/Fem!HP


**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**World of Fairy Tales**

_"Every fairy tale has a bloody lining. Every one has teeth and claws." —Alice Hoffman_

* * *

"Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?"

The quote slipped from between crimson painted lips, as their owner, stared into the large ornate mirror in the bedroom. Bright heavy-lidded verdant eyes inspected every detail shown. From the dark jade Victorian era styled dress to the raven-black hair in large, thick, shiny curls. Her face the same as it ever was—high cheekbones, aristocratic nose, lovely cupid's bow over a shapely pert mouth; pale complexion with a rose hue upon her cheeks.

No, it did not shock her to often hear a few of the Muggle-borns compare her to the princess Snow White during her time at Hogwarts. Only, Eleora Potter, often did not care about such vain things as beauty; more worried about fighting for her life, and the coming war.

But just as the world changes, so do people.

After Dumbledore's death in June of 1997, Eleora made some changes in her life, like befriending some Slytherins. Her friends had been of two minds about that; Hermione thought it was a good idea, while Ron simply called her a traitor.

Then while getting to know Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott, Eleora truly understood what the so-called Dark were really fighting for. It really _wasn't_ all about murdering Muggles, blood traitors, half-breeds and the like—these wizards and witches were taking a stand on their rituals and holidays getting banned due to the slight fear they'd brought upon the entering Muggle-borns. The Ministry making too many changes to benefit the outsiders while oppressing those _born_ into this world—their birthright.

It was by the end of her Seventh Year that Eleora decided not to fight in the war any longer, finding those who'd joined the Order of the Phoenix to be hypocrites; wanting this perfect little Light world, but sending out a _child_ to die for such a thing. To her, if Voldemort won, it would only serve them right.

Just almost a year after graduating from Hogwarts did Eleora come face-to-face with Lord Voldemort again, for the first time since what happened at the Ministry of Magic in 1996. Only he'd been much different—saner, a bit calmer, and looking more human than snake-like. More or less like the Tom Marvolo Riddle of the diary, only if he'd been in his mid to late twenties. That was only the start of what was to come.

After many meetings, arguments, curses, hexes, jinxes, they'd come to a mild understanding. Eleora would not enter the war on behalf of either side, but from time to time she'd fight for something if she truly cared. While Tom could do whatever he wanted with his growing power over Wizarding Britain.

This arrangement caused Eleora Potter to slowly fall in love with Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, her parents' _murderer_ and one time enemy. There was no denial strong enough in the world to escape that fact, even for a witch as powerful as she. Nor that the current Dark Lord made no effort to hide his growing desires towards her—often giving voice to them when alone in his office at Riddle Manor.

Maybe entering a courtship with the Dark Lord was stupidity at its finest, or maybe that was actually _loving_ him, or just maybe it was accepting _his_ love in return. Either way, Eleora didn't really care; for once she'd been selfish and was truly happy because of it. She knew that Tom Riddle was never going to change—he'd always be possessive, dangerous and at times cruel, but Eleora never claimed Tom to be an angel, neither to be one herself.

"Ready to leave yet, Minx?" the silky smooth deep voice, sounding from the door shook Eleora from her thoughts, having spaced out in front of the mirror.

Turning, she drank in the sight of Tom dressed in the finest of dark green robes, fit to show off his lithe figure; how his black hair was styled neatly with the hint of a curl, kissable lips twisted in a smirk. Yet the most glaring difference was in those red eyes—often pitiless and hard as diamonds, they were somehow softer while gazing upon her and if you knew where to look, you'd see faint emotion in them.

Yes, as the word changes and adapts, so do those who live within it. Eleora Potter was no longer the princess of the sweet innocent fairy tales, akin to fighting for all that's good and right. If anything, she upgraded to Queen of Darkness.

"For you," she said softly, walking towards him and threading her arm though his, leaning in to place a kiss on his jaw, "always."


End file.
